


the beast knew blood when it smelled it

by braigwen_s



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Book: Unseen Academicals, Margolotta didn't fuck up a perfectly good orc he was chained up to an anvil ffs, Panic Attacks, Past Addiction, The Foote-Ball Match, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:13:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26569345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/braigwen_s/pseuds/braigwen_s
Summary: What's a mob to a vampire? Historically, fatal.
Relationships: Lady Margolotta & Havelock Vetinari, Lady Margolotta & Nutt, Lady Margolotta & Otto von Chriek
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	the beast knew blood when it smelled it

ORC! ORC! ORC! chanted the crowd in the Hippo. Nutt was tiny in front of the roiling mass of thousands. Margolotta’s face was very still and very tight. She knew a mob when she saw one. She thought of pitchforks, and torches, and stakes, and candles full of holy water. She thought of Black Ribboners who had relapsed once, just once, and been greeted with stakes and matchboxes instead of support and forgiveness.

(She thought of the Duke of Ankh, keeping a bottle of whiskey in his desk drawer. She thought about control, and about punishing the self.)

She remembered Otto screaming, screaming, screaming, until his screams turned into dust and his agony hung in the air. She remembered spilling her own blood to revive him, that precious little she had, she’d been starving. Otto had gasped and coughed and she had burnt in the bright light, blistered from holy water; they had staggered away together, taken flight. They had left others in the hands of the mob. Some of them had not been seen since. 

Otto worked for the Times in Ankh-Morpork, she knew, but he was not here today. Maybe he had sensed the mob. There was nothing wrong with him not wanting to remember, and Nutt was her ward and not his. Vampires were not heartless, even if they barely beat, had so little to run through veins. They had just been trying to survive. What was the difference, really, between a stake and a whip?

ORC! ORC! ORC!

She had tried to save Nutt from the mobs, tried to teach him how to survive. Keep your head low, don’t insult, be polite, don’t be angry. Don’t frighten them. Terror was death. Frightening humans meant mobs, and meant pitchforks, and meant torches, and meant more pain. Do not offend, do not insult, prove you had worth, they had worth, they were _people_ not animals, all control started with the self –

There was pressure on her fingers, and she looked down, half expecting to see herself on fire, or peeled to bones, or at least drenched in blood. Instead, there was a pale, thin hand holding hers, clasping it to comfort her. She took a deep breath and swallowed.

She looked at Havelock. His face was impassive, steady, calm. His hand was not shaking. He didn’t need to speak. _It’s okay_ , he didn’t need to say. _This roiling mass of a crowd is my crowd, and you are sitting here in this box with me. You are not going to be slaughtered_.

 _Nutt is, though_ , she didn’t need to say in reply. _You have miscalculated. The Koom Valley accords are very good, but in the Thud board in your office I am two moves away from having won. You are human. You do not know how deep the blood flows to drown us_. 

ORC! ORC! ORC!

Nutt had a human head clasped in his hands, and hot cows’ blood bubbled up in her; she felt the strong need to vomit.

He let the human go.

ORC! ORC! ORC! ORC!

The crowd wasn’t screaming for this child to die. The crowd was screaming for this child. Heady relief washed over her, like the high she hadn’t felt in five years, her own personal desk-drawer whiskey.

Havelock let her hand go. _I told you so_ , he didn’t need to say.


End file.
